The Person to Blame
by HanMan
Summary: My first attempt at a serious fanfic and send attempt at ANY fanfic. RyanTaylor and...very weird.


"Are you serious, Ryan?" asked Sandy , in an almost Seth-like excited voice. He was grinning from ear to ear, and, as far as Ryan could, completely approving.

"Of course. I really am, I...I just love how," he paused, and a slow smile was spreading across his face. "Sometimes, when she pays the bills online, at the last second before clicking, she'll scowl and her nose will scrunch up. And when she's getting ready, at the last minute she'll look in the mirror and just shrug like it's no big deal. Oh, oh, and sometimes when she's about to go to sleep, she'll spray some horrible French air freshner and, no matter how much I ask her to not spray it she does, and I guess she knows I can't sleep without the horrible smell...I...rambling, I'm sorry."

Sandy smiled once more, "Don't be. So you're really going for it. You really love her, don't you?"

"Well, yeah, I really really do."

That night, after Ryan and Taylor had a romantic dinner at the beach, he proposed to her, and they made love, painfully slow.

--

"Oh my god! I forgot - I need something blue! I need something blue! Summer! Kaitlin! Damn it!"

" Taylor , calm down," said Kaitlin, "you're wearing a blue anklet! You are such a freak show sometimes."

"Don't worry," said Summer, "Everything is perfect. Not a piece of silverware is out of place – trust me, you made us check"

She walked down the aisle a few minutes later and for the first time saw tears in Ryan's eyes. As soon as stood still next to him, he took her arm and squeezed it, but she now knew that it wasn't for no reason.

--

When Taylor and Ryan got back from their honeymoon in Hawaii , everything was perfectly ready. The children's hospital that Ryan designed and was overseeing the construction of was under way. Taylor was writing books about everything from poetry to sex, all of which were sold out in bookstores everywhere across the state.

--

"Yes, Friday evening 5:00 is perfect. Yup. Thanks you so much! Uh-huh. No, no, I'm just so honored you asked me!" Taylor hung up the phone. She was going to get to be on one of her favorite talk shows to talk about her latest book.

She knew that Ryan would love to know about this, so she called him right as she hung up. He was just leaving the construction sight. Everything was going great there, and like she had hoped, and known, to be honest, he was proud of her. He always was.

Ryan had hung up his cell phone and was walking to his car, planning on what kind of flowers to get her on his way home when he noticed a boy sitting by the pay phone. He saw himself...

_I told you, you could do worse _

He heard Sandy 's voice echoing in his ears, and he remembered that feeling...as if he was sinking. "Hey kid," he said to the boy, "you need any help?"

By the looks of it, he really really did.

--

"Do you even know his name?" said Taylor , completely confused with the situation.

"Matt," said Ryan. He was angry, and for the first time he was raising his voice with Taylor .

"What if - what if he was just waiting for his dad? What if -"

"Why would he have said yes?" said Ryan, almost yelling.

"Shhh! He's just upstairs!"

"The house if huge, I don't think he'll hear the fact that you don't want him to stay"

"I never said that," said Taylor , defending herself. "I know Ryan - you always think that I only knew you since our first kiss, but I know what happened before, I do. All I asked for was time. I just need to make sure that this'll be okay. That he's ok."

"Well it's not like we can go and ask his parents! Why are you being so heartless? " Their eyes were locked into each other, and he had known he had taken it too far. Underneath the demeanor of intelligence and perfection was the fragile girl who he had seen so little of before, but now it looked as though he was staring straight into her eyes.

She walked out of the living room, so slow that he could feel the air of hurt circulating following her as she left.

"Where are you going?" he called out to her.

But the only reply he got was that of her closing the door.

--

She had gone to the beach. She felt the sand squiged between her toes, and the cool wind against bare arms. She remembered when Ryan had proposed to her here. She remembered the first time he told her loved her. The way he swept her bangs off to the side of her forehead. She remembered the way he held her during the earthquake. The way he was willing to die for her. She remembered the way he told her he would always love her...

She realized what she was doing and stopped. She was acting as like a spoiled baby. Taylor got back in her car and started on her way back home, back to apologize for another crazy antic.

But as soon as she left the parking lot, she hit another car. She felt herself roll across the cool cement of the road, and felt her blood trickling down her cheeks. And soon, the sounds of the approaching ambulence were drowned out and then she saw nothing.

--

"Don't blame yourself," they all told her. But she knew the only reason they all said that was because **they** were blaming her. It was all her fault. It was her fault that as soon as Seth heard he dropped the bagel in his hand. It was her fault that everyone she cared about was at a funeral today. It was her fault that she was standing in front of the grave of the only man she ever loved.

It was her fault that she left the house – her fault that he came after her – her fault that she hit his car that he died on the spot. It was always her fault.

Ryan was dead and she was the sole person to blame.

Tears were blocking her view of the world, but even so she could see a small figure of a boy around 15 near the gate of the cemetery. Without even seeing his face she knew it was Matt.

As they all left the cemetery, and she finally said goodbye to Ryan she stopped a second to look at the boy. The one thing Ryan had ever asked her for. The only thing he would ever ask her for.

She looked at the boy, and she knew.

"Hey, Matt, lets go home."


End file.
